A THOUSAND-MILE TRIP ON MULEBACK--INCIDENTS
OF TRAVEL IN BOLIVIA
[Illustration: POSTILION OF THE ANDES.]
The itinerary for the journey was arranged in the conference
_sala_ of the office of the director-general of telegraphs in La
Paz. By the courtesy of Señor Torrico, and through the thoughtfulness
of Senator Jorge Galindo, of Cochabamba, a conference by wire was
obtained with the Prefect of Cochabamba, Señor Dr. Isaac Aranibar,
and at the end of a very charming conversation, during which the
prefect expressed great pleasure in the anticipation of welcoming to
Cochabamba the _distinguida Norte-americana y su secretaria_,
everything remained settled, as to horses, mules, guides, and servants,
for what proved to be one of the most interesting, delightful, and
altogether memorable journeys in a record of many thousands of
miles’ travel by land and sea. It may surprise many people that in
remote La Paz such facilities were available for a long distance
conference, and the travellers themselves were thoroughly astonished
to learn that it was possible, from these comfortable headquarters,
to hold uninterrupted communication with the Prefects of Cochabamba,
Sucre, and Potosí, through the services of a telegraph operator, who
conducted the conversation between cities several days’ journey apart,
and inaccessible at that season, December, except by long trips on
muleback. It was decided that the regular semi-weekly diligence should
convey the travellers to Oruro, where they were to take horses and
mules for the rest of the trip, the horses to be used on the less
difficult roads. Through Dr. Aranibar’s courteous attention, horses
and guides were engaged in Cochabamba and sent to Oruro to await the
travellers, as the season of the year was not propitious for securing
animals at short notice in Oruro, especially to serve on such a long
trip as the one proposed. With the shortest possible delay the best
animals for travelling over the precipitous trails of the Andes and
across the rocky beds of the cañons were selected, and the expedition
was placed in charge of an _arriero_ who had conducted families
from one end of Bolivia to the other through a period of twenty years,
a conscientious, shrewd, capable, and thoroughly excellent guide, named
Indalécio Palácios, who deserves the highest praise for his faithful
services on this occasion.
Not heeding the predictions of disaster that were made by all
who heard of the proposed journey, to be undertaken at the worst
season of the year, when the rains were heaviest and the floods
most destructive,--a journey generally pronounced _imposible! un
suicidio!_ and otherwise of dire prospect,--the North Americans
made their preparations with the same eagerness as if only hopeful
prognostications had been offered, and at six o’clock in the morning
of the day agreed upon to begin the trip, they were already seated on
the _pescante_, as the coachman’s box of the diligence is called,
saying good-bye to the numerous friends assembled at that early hour to
_despedir_ them, including the American minister, Mr. Sorsby, who
appeared a little doubtful as to the outcome of this expedition of his
compatriots.
The old diligence was similar to most of its kind in Europe and
America, with seats along the side and a high box for the driver, to
which two passengers could be admitted in case of a crowded list. In
pleasant weather the _pescante_ is preferable to a seat inside the
coach; and even though it was a raw, cold morning when the diligence,
with its eight horses, pulled out of the _carretera_ station at
Challapampa, with the “Americanas” wrapped in their furs and waving
adieus from their elevated seats, the prospect was pleasanter to them
than it would have been inside, with sleepy people blinking at one
another and grumbling about their “places.”
“Coaching” is a word which usually suggests high-stepping
thoroughbreds, rubber tires, and all the accessories of a fashionable
turnout; but a coaching trip may be a delight, as this one proved, in
a rattling old vehicle drawn by eight mules unquestionably ordinary,
evidently chosen for endurance rather than appearances. The old
_diligencia_ climbed slowly enough until it arrived at El Alto;
but once on the broad plateau, the well-trained mules tore over the
level road at a surprising and exhilarating speed. The keen air
at fourteen thousand feet above the sea was delightful; and when,
after two hours’ riding, the coach stopped in front of a little
_posada_, or inn, everyone was ready for a cup of coffee and a
roll, which were taken without getting down. After riding on for three
hours more, the station of Ayoayo was reached, at one o’clock; and
while the driver changed mules for the second time that morning, the
passengers had _almuerzo_, as the noon meal is called in all South
American countries, meaning breakfast, the early morning coffee and
rolls being _desayuno_. Ayoayo is pointed out to travellers not
only as the birthplace of the celebrated Tupac-Catari, who held La Paz
in a state of siege for more than three months during an insurrection
against Spanish rule late in the eighteenth century, but as the scene
of a massacre of Sucre soldiers by Indians only a few years ago under
peculiarly sad circumstances, the young men representing the best
families of Sucre society. It is a typical village of the plateau,
adobe built, treeless, and dreary looking. A few leagues further on,
the coach stopped at the thermal springs of Viscachani for a few
minutes only, finishing the day’s journey at Sicasica at about nine
o’clock at night. All day the snow-white peaks of the Andes had been
in view, and, dotting the landscape in groups at short intervals, were
seen curious-looking adobe mounds or towers of from five to ten feet
in height, with a Gothic archway through the centre, giving a singular
appearance to the structure. They are called _chullpas_, an Aymará
word used to designate not only the buildings but their architects,
though it was not applied to the latter until late in the seventeenth
century. These _chullpas_ are generally regarded as the ruins of
ancient Aymará burial places, though some authorities believe them to
have been built for dwellings, and it is certain that they were used as
such at the time of the Viceroy Toledo’s visit to Alto Peru, when he
gave the order that the Indians should be forbidden to occupy them and
should be compelled to form communities around a Christian church. That
the _chullpas_ have been used extensively as burial places at some
time is proved by the great number of skeletons found in them. Next
to the colossal ruins of Tiahuanaco and the remains of Inca palaces
on Lake Titicaca, these _chullpas_ are the most interesting
pre-Columbian relics of the plateau.
[Illustration: ANCIENT SEPULCHRES, CALLED “CHULLPAS,” BETWEEN
LA PAZ AND ORURO.]
A long day’s ride, from six o’clock in the morning until nine at night,
is sufficiently fatiguing to make any kind of lodging desirable, and no
one appeared to take much notice of the surroundings at Sicasica. At
four o’clock the next morning the diligence was on its way again. The
air was cold and clear, and from the _pescante_ a fine view was
to be had of the whole country. The moon was just disappearing in all
its silver splendor behind a bank of black clouds, still illumining
with its weird light the towers of a distant church and shedding a
white radiance over the broad expanse of plain. Within half an hour
more the sun came out, at first rosy as a child from its bath, and then
golden in all the splendor of the new day. Along a part of the road
the coach was whirled over a carpet of snow, the result of a storm the
night before. The route lay past the battlefield of Aroma, famous as
the site of the Cochabambans’ victory over the Spaniards in the War of
the Independence, then through the pueblos, or villages, of Panduro and
Vilavila, with their plazas, their narrow streets, and little shops,
over many of which hung gorgeously dressed dolls to indicate that
_chicha_ was for sale within, passing Caracolla, the breakfast
station, from which the direction lay due southward to Oruro, where the
coach stopped at four o’clock of one of the windiest days in Bolivia’s
windiest city.
Oruro is surrounded by mountains, the sides of which have been
burrowed in all directions for the precious metals they contain in
abundance. It presented a particularly attractive appearance to the
two North Americans the morning succeeding their arrival, when, after
receiving visits from the prefect, Dr. Andrés Muñoz, and the rector
of the university, Dr. Rodolfo Galvarro, who extended a cordial
welcome to their city with the usual hospitality of these kind people,
they started on a sightseeing tour, with the genial editor of _La
Tarde_ as cicerone. The market place is always interesting to
foreigners, and half a day was not too long to spend at its booths,
where blankets, woven in all the colors of the rainbow, _chola_
outfits, all kinds of home-made lace, pottery of primitive design and
workmanship, and little images to be worn as amulets, are sold at
whatever price it appears most probable the purchaser will pay. As it
was necessary to secure provisions for the muleback trip which was
to begin the next day, a little _chola_ servant in the employ
of friends was sent to buy chickens and other necessaries in the
market. In this country methods are the reverse of those employed
where competition makes every vendor eager to secure purchasers. Here
it is the buyer who pleads and urges that he must have such and such
articles. The process of getting a pair of chickens was as complicated
as if it had been a question of some delicate legal transaction. The
price did not seem high enough to warrant such exclusive methods.
The _arriero_ Palácios having arrived with the horses and mules
from Cochabamba, everything was ready to begin the journey by eight
o’clock on the morning of December 14, 1905. The cheerful optimism with
which the two travellers regarded the possible experiences in store
for them was explained in the statement: “Everybody is so kind to us
everywhere!” and they wore a happy and confident mien as they rode
out of the _patio_ through the low stone gateway of the hotel,
and turned their horses’ heads toward the apparently boundless plain,
across which they were to find their way to the Royal Range of the
Andes, and, by following its steep ledges and winding cañons, to reach
the beautiful valleys beyond, and visit the thriving cities of central
Bolivia. It is not possible to take, on such a journey, the large
trunks used in Europe and North America, where railroad facilities are
such that the heaviest baggage can be easily handled. For muleback
travel light trunks, made of raw hide and called _petacas_, are
used, generally smaller than the average steamer trunk. Two of these
may be strapped on each mule, and if the weight is well balanced the
animal will carry very heavy loads. The provisions are also carried
in these _petacas_. The saddlebags, or _alforjas_, are an
important item of the rider’s outfit, as in this way are carried light
lunches, fruits, etc., which may be eaten without dismounting, in case
of emergency.
[Illustration: PILLARS OF SANDSTONE, NEAR PORCO.]
The first day’s trip seemed longer than leagues recorded it, the sun
beating down with intense heat on the high plateau and the white
light dazzling by its sheen. The snow mountains were in view all day,
refreshing to the sight. The road was almost entirely level, and there
were few landmarks along the way by which to note progress. The old
town of Paria, looming abruptly in the path after a sudden turn at the
slope of a hillock, awakened interest chiefly as the first pueblo built
by the conquerors in Bolivia. It was worth an hour’s delay, though it
possesses little of architectural merit except an old church which is,
and probably always has been, its chief adornment.
Small huts, the homes of Indian shepherds, are scattered over the
plain, apparently not large enough to admit more than one person,
though whole families occupy them, or rather sleep in them, as a
protection from the piercing cold of this region after sundown. During
the day they are deserted, except on rare occasions. Looking into one
of these curious little hovels, nothing was to be seen but a kettle,
a box of matches, a bit of tallow candle, a blanket, a handful of
parched corn, and the stones on which to grind it. There seems to be
little fear of robbery, as none of these huts have doors. All along
this part of the plateau, where it slopes toward the Royal Range, there
are sheepfolds or corrals, enclosed by low walls of adobe or rocks.
Before reaching the end of the second day’s journey, from Tolopalca
to Ventilla, the plateau was left behind and the green slopes of the
valleys appeared. Palácios felt it incumbent upon himself to point out
objects of interest, and his information was of the most varied and
weird description. The rocks and jagged peaks took on a new aspect
under the charm of many legends; and strange faces looked out from
uncanny depths, curious forms rose up in the crevices of the cañon, and
above one of the summits the head of Melgarejo was pointed out, with
a gesture of satisfaction which might or might not bear relation to
the safe distance at which the celebrated _tyranno’s_ sculptured
likeness appeared. A terrific thunderstorm caused half a day’s delay at
Ventilla, but was worth the loss of time, as it gave an opportunity to
observe a curious custom, when, as a heavy downfall of hail buried the
ground out of sight, the proprietress of the inn brought out a brazier
full of incense and set it in the middle of the _patio_, “to burn
incense to the Virgin and have the hail stopped.” A few minutes later
the hail ceased, and the devout little housewife came out triumphantly
to take away the brazier and to explain its purpose to the astonished
onlookers. Her little home had few evidences of worldly comfort, but
in a corner of the family bedroom there was an altar to the Virgin, on
which fresh flowers were placed daily. She was a happy, contented soul,
and thought Ventilla the most desirable place of residence in the world.
Five o’clock in the morning was the usual hour for beginning the
day’s journey. From Ventilla to Chuimani the road was rugged and
mountainous, and a threatening storm made it doubtful whether the
usual number of miles could be made without danger of being swept
down stream by a sudden flood. But fortune was favorable, and after
an hour’s rest and breakfast at Chuimani the little party pushed on
to Arque, arriving early in the afternoon. A deputation consisting of
the chief authorities of the district met the travellers, whose coming
had been announced in advance by telegram; and they were escorted to
the municipal building, where, dismounting, they were received with
formal speeches of welcome. As it was the _corregidor’s_ birthday,
the town was in _fiesta_, and presented a gay appearance. But
though the invitation to remain was cordial, it was necessary to take
advantage of every fine day for the trip, at a season when storms
meant possible delay of a week or more; and at four o’clock the next
morning the party started out of Arque, following the bed of the river
nearly all the way to Capinota. The scenery of the Quebrada de Arque,
as this part of the route is called, is grand and imposing beyond
description. Nothing more stupendous in rocky chasm and pinnacled
height is to be seen in the Grand Cañon of the Colorado, in the Swiss
Alps, or even in the Himalayas. It is impressive, awe inspiring, one
of the noblest of Nature’s architectural wonders. The route from Arque
to Capinota follows the river bed, and it was necessary to cross the
stream more than fifty times during the five hours’ ride, frequently
under rather uncertain circumstances, as a torrent had poured down
through the _quebrada_ the night before, and fording was still
difficult and dangerous, the animal’s slightest stumble on a loose
stone serving to make him lose ground against the heavy current. But
the _arriero_ never failed to attend closely to his charges,
and his _Cuidado, niñas!_--“Be careful, young ladies!”--served
to guard against any inattention at critical moments. The ride into
Capinota was like passing along one of the shady bridle paths of a
European city. For about two miles the road lay between a double row
of wide-branching trees, through fertile farm lands; and when the
cavalcade entered Capinota, to the astonishment of the quiet citizens
who came to the doors to see the _estrangeras_, nothing could have
been more grateful to the sight of the fatigued travellers than the
clean streets and white houses of that attractive little provincial
capital. The sub-prefect, Señor Maldonado, and his charming family
extended the welcome characteristic of gentlefolk in every land, and
their generous hospitality was one of the most pleasing experiences
of the trip. It would have been pleasant to stay longer in Capinota,
but a few hours were all that could be spared, and the afternoon saw
the _jinetas_, as horsewomen are called, again on their way. The
afternoon was that of a genuine midsummer day, and the sun blazed down
with extraordinary fierceness on the high, unsheltered ledges of the
mountain side along which the travellers made their way for hours. The
scenery was magnificent; and when the winding of the road brought a
breath of cool air or a stretch of shade, the leagues seemed to grow
shorter, though it was late in the afternoon when the little town of
Caraza was reached and the journey was ended for the day. It had been
less than the usual day’s ride, only thirty miles, but the road had led
first through the rocky bed of the river from Arque, and then along the
sun-heated slopes beyond Capinota, which were particularly fatiguing
during the hottest hours of a summer’s day, with the natural result
that the following morning found the travellers particularly tired,
making the continuation of the journey something of an effort. But at
the usual hour they started, riding slowly for four hours, until a
distant view of a camp of North American engineers near Quillacollo
revived their drooping spirits, and cheerfulness increased with the
anticipation of meeting fellow countrymen to whom they could talk in
their own language, and of hearing news, perhaps, from their own dear
land. The engineers, who were engaged in the survey of the new railway
between Oruro and Cochabamba, had already received information of
their approach, and appeared equally pleased to see friends from their
country, showering every kind attention upon their delighted guests,
who were made comfortable until the effects of fatigue disappeared and
they were able to go on to Cochabamba, which they reached the next day.
[Illustration: RIVER ROCHA, NEAR COCHABAMBA, SHOWING TUNARI
IN THE DISTANCE.]
[Illustration: WEAVING THE PONCHO ON A PRIMITIVE LOOM.]
From Oruro to Cochabamba, a distance of about one hundred and forty
miles, a diligence carries passengers during the greater part of the
year, and there are always accommodations for passengers at the inns of
the various diligence stations. But on the long ride from Cochabamba to
Sucre, these advantages do not exist, as there is now no coach system
over this road, covering a distance of about three hundred miles. It
was necessary before leaving Cochabamba to purchase beds and provisions
for the trip. Army cots were bought, of the kind that can be rolled up
in a neat bundle and strapped on the mule without requiring too much
space. Then a shopping tour resulted in a nondescript collection of
kitchen utensils, an alcohol stove, and a complete picnic assortment
of canned eatables, nearly all from English, French, or German
establishments, the United States being far behind in this market.
After a pleasant week in this Garden City, enjoying the hospitality of
the charming Cochabamba people, the small caravan was got ready for the
trip to Sucre. The ladies started out under the brightest auspices,
with a host of new friends to wish them a safe journey. It was quite a
cavalcade, consisting of the two travellers and their _arriero_
and servant, three saddle horses, two saddle mules, two pack mules,
and a donkey for the small boy who went as helper to Palácios. The
first day’s ride was through the fertile valley of Cochabamba to Arani,
a town thirty miles away, which has a regular coach service to the
city, uninterrupted the year round. All along this road are to be seen
curious round-topped buildings, some used as dwellings, and others as
barns. They resemble the saüba ant mounds of Brazil, on a larger scale,
or the African bungalows, except that these Bolivian huts are of adobe,
the well-known sun-dried brick generally used throughout Latin America.
At Punata, near Arani, an old cemetery presents a remarkable appearance
on account of the vaults being built in this form. The climate of
Cochabamba and the vicinity is superb, and a day’s journey in this part
of Bolivia is an unmixed delight. The second day’s ride from Arani to
Ayapampa was a taste of what mountain climbing means, and the thirty
miles between the two _postas_ presented almost every variety of
climate and weather. Breakfast tasted just as good eaten while sitting
on a pile of stones by the roadside as if it had been taken at a
perfectly served table in one’s own house, for the altitude and the
bracing air gave a wonderful appetite, and the ascent had been a sharp
one from six o’clock in the morning until noon. A heavy storm of rain
and hail made particularly serviceable the gorgeous _ponchos_,
or blankets, which had been purchased at Oruro for the trip, as
raincoats did not meet the double requirement of warmth and waterproof
security. Ayapampa is a brown, rather gloomy-looking cluster of houses,
high among the mountains, the centre of a pastoral community. It has
a well-built church and a good school, and some of the homes give
evidences of comfort. The _corregidor_ placed his house _á la
disposicion de las Señoras_,--“at the disposal of the ladies,”--who
made themselves comfortable for the night, and, with the assistance
of Palácios and the servant, made experiments in amateur cooking, the
initial steps toward acquiring a proficiency in culinary art which
developed marvellously before the end of the journey. That evening’s
effort was a dismal failure, and a large consignment of embryonic
“flapjacks” went to feed the birds of the mountains, but _ce n’est
que le premier pas qui côute_!
[Illustration: INDIANS IN FEAST COSTUMES.]
The next day broke the record of endurance in travelling, and will
never be forgotten as the most fatiguing day of the whole trip. From
Ayapampa to Mizque is estimated at fifty miles, but it was as long a
fifty miles as precipices and rocky slopes and innumerable windings
can measure. Starting at five o’clock in the morning and riding
steadily until nine o’clock at night, with only a half-hour’s rest for
breakfast, this long day’s experience made the weary equestrians decide
that the fifty miles must have been measured “as the crow flies.” The
early morning was clear and cold, and from Ayapampa the route lay down
the valley, the descent being through a bank of clouds, which, when
seen from above, looked like great billows of seafoam, then as one
passed through them, the atmosphere was so foggy that the outstretched
hand could hardly be distinguished, and from below the fleecy coverlet
gradually rose and was lost to sight in the blue of the sky. The first
half of the day passed quickly, as the marvellous beauty of the scenery
absorbed attention. The majesty of the Cordilleras, rising peak above
peak as far as the eye could see, and the wonderful depths of the green
valleys far below, were impressive beyond description. And when the
descent to the bed of the Mizque River began, the varied beauty of
its winding course, as it spread out like a panorama to the view, was
enchanting. But what a long time it took to descend the mountain to a
river bed which seemed to be no more than half a mile away! Palácios
was appealed to with increasing frequency as the hours passed, to know
how many leagues still remained, and his cheery _dos ó tres leguas
no más, Señora_,--“two or three leagues, no more, lady,”--grew
dreadfully monotonous as daylight faded and flashes of lightning were
the only illuminating beacons to show the way. Fortunately, the river
was reached before dark; but it was pitch dark when the cavalcade rode
into Mizque, and hardly a light glimmered in the town as the travellers
dismounted in the plaza and were received by the courteous sub-prefect,
Señor Ladislao Vasquez, who hastened to provide everything for their
comfort, expressing his regret that an accident to the telegraph wires,
caused by the recent storm, had prevented his receiving word of their
coming.
[Illustration: THE DEVIL’S BRIDGE ACROSS THE PILCOMAYO RIVER.]
Mizque is a survival of one of the most important towns of the
Audiencia of Charcas, once the seat of a bishopric. It is a quiet
borough, picturesque and attractive in many ways. A day was given to
visiting its churches and gardens, as the river was too swollen by
floods to permit of riding across. The next day was the last of the
old year, and it was spent chiefly on the road between Mizque and
Aiquile, the latter a thriving provincial capital, the sub-prefect of
which, Señor Nicanor Arze, is a descendant of the famous Cochabamban
who led the victorious forces in the battle of Aroma. Señor Arze and
his wife made the coming of the New Year as bright as possible to the
two strangers in their city, and Señor Arze accompanied the party as
far as Novillera, which is one of the finest fruit farms in Bolivia.
With their saddlebags full of oranges and lemons, the ladies left,
after breakfast, for Quiroga, where accommodations were scant, but
hospitality was generous, Señor Manuel Rodriguez giving up his store
as a lodging for the unexpected arrivals. The only available space was
on the counter, and here Palácios and the servants arranged the cots
for the first night’s rest of the New Year. It was a holiday to be
remembered, as all the town was celebrating with music and procession,
the Indians, who were in _fiesta_ after their own peculiar
fashion, shouting and dancing. The commotion caused alarm to the
travellers, which was quickly allayed by the reassuring announcement of
the _arriero_, who kept guard, that all the noise meant nothing,
or, as he expressed it, _No importa nada, Señora_.
All along the central valley, which is the route from Cochabamba to
Sucre, the scenery is very like some parts of Mexico, where the cactus
grows in profusion and the climate is semi-tropical. But the cactus and
the pepper tree reach their maximum growth in this region, the cactus
towering up in a single huge stem to the height of a small poplar,
while the pepper tree branches out with wonderful vigor. Few signs of
animal life are seen, except of the domestic variety, though there
are many beautiful birds, and whole flocks of parrots and paroquets
fly screaming overhead at short intervals all day long. Not many
insects were seen, but a great deal of warning was given by friends
to be prepared for a fierce specimen called _vinchuca_, a kind
of vampire beetle, which, however, did not appear. Many magnificent
country estates are scattered along the sides of the rich agricultural
valley; and over the Rio Grande, which was crossed scores of times
during one day, the beautiful Puente Arce has been swung to facilitate
travel in this section of the country. One night, after a ride of
thirty-six miles over the stony bed of the river, a _choza_, or
Indian hut made of straw, appeared to view, and it was decided that a
night’s rest under its scanty roof would be better than a too strenuous
effort to reach the next _posta_; so, as soon as permission
was granted, the cots were prepared, and the weary _gringas_,
soothed by the moonlight streaming in and the sound of some distant
_postillón’s_ guitar, or _charango_, borne faintly on the
night air, fell asleep, the _arriero_ keeping guard with a
revolver which never found any more serious use than waking the echoes.
For experience has proved, in thousands of cases, that travellers are
as safe in the remote districts of Bolivia as on a city street in
the most carefully policed centres of the world. The chief trouble
encountered was that of procuring forage, the season being the worst
of the year for pasturage. It was of no use to urge the _arriero_
to stay at some _posta_ that seemed to offer special attractions
in scenery or historical interest. _No hay forrage_--“There is
no forage”--was the death knell to poetic dreams upon more than one
occasion on that memorable ride.
[Illustration: PUENTE SAN BARTOLOMÉ BETWEEN POTOSÍ AND
YOCALLA.]
The day of the arrival at Sucre broke clear and promising, and from
the _posta_ of Cantumolino the cavalcade set out at five o’clock
in the morning to climb the almost perpendicular height that marks
the approach to the famous city. A terrific storm came on, at first
in great, splashing drops, then in a steadier downpour, and finally,
as the level heights, called _puna_, were reached, the climax
came in hailstones as large as marbles. The rain quickly drenched the
ladies to the skin, though it did not dampen their enthusiasm. It was
a glorious sight up there on the heights, from which the trickling
rivulets could be seen leaving the crevices of the summits and forming
into larger streams, which were quickly swollen into floods as they
swept into the gullies of the lower cañon and were carried in a mighty
torrent down to the bed of the now raging river. In half an hour it
was all over, and the sun came out over the peaks and shone down into
the _quebradas_, almost visibly checking the rushing waters.
Sucre looked whiter than ever after such a drenching, and it was a
most welcome sight after nine days’ journey, though every day had been
enjoyable.
[Illustration: A FREQUENT MORNING ENCOUNTER ON THE JOURNEY.]
No one can ever get away from Sucre so soon as he has planned to do,
no matter how urgent the case may be; and although it had been the
intention to give only a few days to sightseeing in the capital, the
time flew by so agreeably that at the end of two weeks it was with
reluctance that good-byes were said. Hospitality was most cordial and
genuine, even the problem of taking care of the animals, the eternal
question of _forrage_, being solved by a distinguished Sucrense,
Señor Urioste, brother of the Princess de Glorieta, who turned them
out to graze on his own magnificent hacienda. Receptions, soirées,
picnics, and a grand ball which was marked by as much _éclat_
as if it had taken place in a European capital, were features of the
entertainment provided for the visitors, who, on leaving, were escorted
to the first _posta_ by the distinguished prefect, Dr. Julio La
Faye, and a party of leading Sucrenses, who treated them to a sumptuous
breakfast in _despedida_. It was late before the next _posta_
was reached, at the Puente Sucre, which crosses the Pilcomayo River,
but from this point to Potosí was only three days’ riding, and the
roads, though steep and narrow, were in no place dangerous. From the
Puente Sucre the ladies were accompanied for several leagues by the
courteous official, Señor Rodriguez, and early in the afternoon the
day’s ride ended at Retiro. One of the temporary attachés of the
expedition, who has not been described before because he attracted
little attention, was the _postillón_. This unique type serves
from one _posta_ to another only, and it is chiefly in the
mountains that his personality becomes a picturesque feature of the
landscape. In the valleys he is an uninteresting creature who runs his
fifty or sixty miles a day in a plodding, expressionless sort of way,
but on the uplands the species is different. He is a poem in rags and
patches, a symphony in prismatic _ensemble_, with an individuality
as striking as quaintness can make it. He swings his silver-tipped horn
over his shoulder and holds his beloved _charango_ close to his
heart, even when he thrums on it the strange, monotonous _tristes_
which constitute the musical masterpieces of his race. He is silent,
yet eloquent in his silence, as the garrulous white man seldom is with
all his words. His bushy, but straight, black hair makes a thick fringe
under the knitted cap which he pulls down over his ears, and his black
eyes are wide open, though not always in innocent questioning. He is
sometimes a shrewd schemer. The _postillón_, who trotted on ahead
to herald the travellers’ arrival at Conapaya, vigorously blowing his
silver-tipped horn, caused a panic by selecting as their breakfast room
at the _tambo_, or inn, an apartment in which the ladies found
themselves face to face with a case of smallpox at the worst stage
of the disease. The escape from the dangerous situation was sudden
and somewhat dramatic; but as a physician who was encountered on the
road to Potosí the next day explained, the great altitude practically
prevents contagion, and the disease had never been known to exist
except in sporadic cases, usually brought from a lower district. This
did not entirely allay anxiety, however, and upon arriving at Potosí
the doctor was called in to vaccinate the entire party. Palácios balked
and refused to be bothered with it, and the _postillón_ could not
be found, but the small helper was made an unwilling victim.
[Illustration: THE LLAMA, THE PROUDEST OF BURDEN BEARERS.]
Naturally there was much to see in the wonderful old city of Potosí,
and it was only after several days that the enthusiastic visitors
to the Villa Imperial could make up their minds to go on. Here as
elsewhere hospitality was liberally shown, and time was made to pass
very pleasantly in the company of charming new friends. Señor Juan
Ugarteche and his beautiful wife, whose father is Señor Bebin, one of
the richest mine owners of Bolivia, were most attentive, as were many
others.
The route from Potosí to Challapata, the coach road terminus on the
Antofagasta and Oruro Railway, is said to be better than that from
Sucre to Challapata, and yet it seems hard to believe that any road
could present more difficulties to the equestrian than the former. The
first day’s riding offered few inconveniences except that a flood made
the river impassable in the neighborhood of the Mendieta placer mines,
and it was necessary to wait patiently till the river “passed.” An
expression which sounds strange to the foreigner is that of the river’s
“arriving” and “passing.” “I think we can get to the next _posta_
before the river arrives,” the _arriero_ would say, and at first
the idea of this transient passenger was a source of great amusement.
But as the rivers depend for their existence on the rains that flood
the mountain crevices, it can easily be understood that their “arrival”
is entirely a passing event. A small stream sometimes remains to mark
their turbulent course, but even this is not a certainty the year
round. A great deal of work has been done to keep the roads passable.
A few leagues out of Potosí the Puente del Diablo, between Yocalla
and Tarapaya, was pointed out by Palácios as a wonderful piece of
construction done by his Satanic majesty on a wager for the soul of a
belated lover who was unable to cross the stream to save his sweetheart
from marriage with another, and who bargained to give his soul if the
devil would build the bridge before the cock crew in the morning. When
the work was nearly done the young man repented of his wicked wager and
prayed to the Virgin to save him from the awful sin he was committing.
His prayer was heard, and the cock crew before the last stone was
placed in the arch. He leaped across the nearly completed bridge, and
while the devil cursed the bad luck that had befallen his enterprise,
the young man received the blessing of the Church on his happy marriage
with the fair lady of his choice.
[Illustration: COSTUMES WORN BY THE INDIANS ON THE PILGRIMAGE
TO THE SHRINE OF COPACABANA.]
On every highway of the Cordillera great droves of llamas may be
seen, carrying their small loads to and from the mines. One morning
a thousand of these stately freight bearers were counted, in droves
averaging a hundred each. Most of them were carrying blocks of tin
to Challapata, or merchandise from that city to Potosí. The blocks
weighed twenty-five pounds, and each llama carried two of them. An
average-sized llama will carry from fifty to sixty pounds, and the
larger animals eighty and in rare cases a hundred pounds. But the
llama knows his loading capacity, and absolutely refuses to have one
ounce extra put on his back. If such an insult is offered him, he sits
down in the road until the offending load is removed. Beating and
coaxing will not get him to his feet again, and sometimes, even after
the load is taken off, he refuses to continue the journey. The other
llamas will not go on without him, and it is a serious question with
his Indian driver whether to carry the llama until he will agree to
walk, or to kill him, so that the caravan can go on with its freight.
The llama travels only from nine to ten miles a day, keeping a slow
majestic pace, with his head held high in the air, turning it from one
side to the other as objects of interest attract his attention. He is
a superb-looking creature, sometimes of gorgeous coloring, when his
coat has been dyed red, yellow, or green to match his master’s, and
bright-hued ribbons have been tied through holes pierced in the tips of
his long, erect ears. The Indians believe the llama has the soul of a
departed Inca, which accounts for his pride. An Indian who owns a drove
of llamas is independently rich. They find their own forage, their wool
supplies him with clothing, their bones make his utensils, their meat
is food for him in an emergency, his sandals are made of their hide,
and llama dung furnishes the fuel with which he cooks his food. The
llama chews the cud, and his weapon in anger or fear is spitting at
the offender. His wool makes durable _ponchos_, which the Indians
weave on very primitive looms.
[Illustration: A COUNTRY ROAD NEAR LA PAZ.]
As the journey approached its close, the roads seemed to grow steeper
and the _postas_ further apart. At times it appeared to be a question
whether the mules were walking on their feet, or picking their way down
the almost perpendicular slopes on their noses, and then, a sudden
ascent would reverse appearances, and one could not help wondering how
long the mules could preserve their equilibrium with the scant hold
their hind feet had secured on the edge of the precipice, while the
fore feet floundered around in what seemed an everlasting effort to get
a solid base. Chasms opened on one side and rocky ledges crowded on
the other, while nothing was to be seen but illimitable space ahead,
and there was no way of going back. These were features of the trip
which were not of unmixed enjoyment, but not a single accident occurred
on the entire journey; and though part of it, between Leñas and
Vilcapugio, was travelled at an altitude of over sixteen thousand feet,
where the cold was intense at night, the road often being covered with
snow in the morning, not a moment’s suffering was felt, and every day
brought new diversion. One of the most entertaining experiences was
the arrival at Tolapalca, near Vilcapugio, on an Indian feast day. The
_patio_ of the _posta_ was filled with a gay crowd in bright green,
yellow, red, and blue _ponchos_, all barefooted, even at that high
altitude, nearly all the women carrying babies swung on their backs.
They had musicians whose instruments were primitive flutes, called
_quenas_, horns, _charangos_, and drums, and who at frequent intervals
marched two by two around the _patio_ and into the barroom, where
_chicha_ flowed like water. Men, women, and children, when drinking,
first spilled some of the liquor on the ground, as an offering to
Mother Earth, or, according to some authorities, to propitiate the
invisible spirits supposed to be present upon all occasions; and
after each libation they would perform the ceremony of walking across
the _patio_, two by two, and kneeling upon the ground at every three
steps to kiss the donor of all their blessings. As their _chicha_ is
made from maize, their obeisance is a recognition of the beneficent
source which provides them with it. Even in the religious _fiestas_ of
Copacabana, the Indians observe many of their primitive ceremonies,
while their costumes suggest a strange mixture of pagan with Christian
training. The arrival of the travellers appeared to make not the
slightest difference to them, and they hardly glanced at the newcomers.
[Illustration: CHALLAPATA. RAILROAD TOWN AND TERMINUS OF THE
MULEBACK TRIP FROM POTOSÍ.]
An amusing process in all the smaller _postas_ of the remote
country districts was the presentation of the official letter
from the government to the _alcalde_ of the place, which was
necessary in order to secure the best attentions. Many of these
country authorities speak only the Aymará or Quichua languages;
and as Palácios is acquainted with both, he had to interpret the
contents of the mysterious document, which he usually did with florid
emphasis. _Papel! Gobierno!_ were magic words with which to begin
his oratorical effort; and it was a fascinating sight to see the
_alcalde_ in his gorgeous _poncho_, with his silver-topped
and tasselled _vara_, or staff of office, held tightly in one
hand, peering earnestly into the pages of a document which apparently
meant much or little to him according to the _arriero’s_
eloquence. But these authorities are excellent judges of human
nature, and are not easily deceived. They saw that the strangers were
entitled to consideration, and every possible facility was granted at
a reasonable price, every attention was shown, and the _alcalde_
took leave of his visitors upon every occasion with a dignity and
simplicity that were altogether charming. The _alcalde_ rules his
little canton well, but he cannot always prevent abuses, the Indians of
the plateau being shrewd and resourceful. A laughable incident occurred
to prove that at least they are not so stupid as some foreigners
believe. It was necessary to buy bread, and the _arriero_ had
been sent to get it, in the form of _pancitos_, as the little
loaves are called. After laying them on the table, he went to unload
the mules; and in the meantime a poor, old Indian woman appeared,
with several children clinging to her skirts, to beg bread. All the
_pancitos_ were poured into her lap, and the _arriero_ was
called to buy more. Seeing the beggar, his face relaxed in a broad
grin, in appreciation of the joke, as he exclaimed: “But, Señora,
that’s the woman who sold me the _pancitos_!” It was a transaction
that would have done credit to the sharp methods of Seven Dials! As a
type of his class, the _arriero_ himself was an interesting as
well as an amusing study throughout the trip. He had a ready solution
for every difficulty. The promptness with which he disposed of a tired
or lazy mule and secured a fine specimen to replace it, the astonishing
facility with which he obtained favors from the most obdurate officials
in the little _postas_, and the real genius he displayed
in getting the willing services of passing _arrieros_ and
_postillóns_ in loading and unloading his cargo were proofs that
under more favorable circumstances Palácios might have been a great
politician or financial magnate. He was a born diplomat; and although
it was sometimes annoying to find that, after having listened with
polite attention to a suggestion, to which he invariably responded with
_Si Señora_,--“Yes, madam,”--he continued to carry out his own
plans in his own way, answering each insisting demand with a reassuring
_No tenga cuidado, Señora_, which meant: “Don’t give yourself any
uneasiness, madam,” experience proved that his judgment was always
correct; so suggestions became fewer as the journey proceeded, and were
finally given up altogether.
When the travellers entered the railroad town of Challapata, at the
end of their ride from Potosí, on February 1, 1906, much sunburned
in spite of masks, veils, and umbrellas, but as happy and optimistic
as when they started from Oruro nearly two months before, they
were enthusiastic in praise of the great country, its wonderful
climate and abundant resources, and expressed their opinion that it
offers extraordinary attractions to the tourist as well as to the
matter-of-fact investor. The trip was not ended until a visit had
been paid to the mines of Huanchaca, after which the diligence was
again taken for the final journey from Oruro to La Paz, though it
required three days this time, on account of the bad roads and the poor
condition of the animals. The heights above La Paz were a welcome sight
as they appeared early in the afternoon of the third day from Oruro,
and at four o’clock the ladies alighted at the _carretera_ station
of Challapampa. At a few minutes after five they presented their
cards at the _ministerio_ of justice and instruction to fulfil
the first obligation upon their return, that of thanking President
Montes, through Señor Saracho, for the many courtesies received from
government officials throughout Bolivia. An interview was accorded them
immediately, during which Señor Saracho expressed great satisfaction
over the happy termination of this long journey.
All the fatigue, and the few unpleasant experiences of the
thousand-mile trip through Bolivia and the twenty-four days’ ride in
the saddle, were quickly forgotten in the cordial reception which
was given the two ladies on their return to La Paz. Mr. Sorsby was
complimentary in his praises of the courage and determination of his
countrywomen, and his excellency the president, on whom they called to
pay their respects before leaving this interesting country, said to
them at parting: “In Bolivia we hear much of the remarkable energy and
courage of the North American woman, and you have shown us a wonderful
example of it.”
[Illustration: QUICHUA INDIAN GIRL OF POTOSÍ.]
[Illustration: PROCESSION OF THE VIRGIN AT COPACABANA.]